


Reputations

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College AU, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Don't worry, the "explicit" warning will be relevant here soon. And that cherry juice will definitely come into play. ;)</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean had decided from the moment he walked through the doors of the university on Monday morning that this year would be different. He was going to start this year fresh. No screwing around, no grueling hangovers, no regrettable one night stands. He wanted to be a role model for Sam, who was still trapped in Dean's hellish alma mater, Wesson High. Dean shifted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he thought of his younger brother. The kid had had a hard time his freshman year, but after confronting the boy who'd bullied him almost constantly, he'd become a bit of a local legend. Dean smiled slightly at the memory. Sammy would be just fine without him.  
Dean checked his paper containing his dorm assignment once more. Room 221, Crowley Hall. A computer glitch had caused his roommate assignment to be left off of his list, which was just as well really. He didn't intend to get too attached to anyone here. Squinting at the towering structures around him, he searched for the place that would be his home for the semester. A brick building in the distance boasted a large silver C, indicating that he'd found his destination. He marched on, trying to look as confident as possible.  
The truth was that, while he acted cocky and brutish for Sammy's benefit, Dean Winchester was nothing special. Not a tall, dark and handsome stranger, not a badass drifter. Just an unsure young boy with a penchant for mythology. He had won the hearts of many a hot little blonde by puffing his chest and putting on a show, but that was only because the shy young man inside of him would never get the girl.  
Upon reaching his destination, Dean took a deep breath. Sophomore year was going to go swimmingly. He could feel it in his veins...or was that fear? He adjusted his grip on his duffle bags and prepared to hike up the stairs. Room 221 was on the second floor, so he had a much shorter trek than some of the other suckers. Still, he was short on breath as he reached his floor. He trudged down the hatefully long hallway, attempting to adjust his face into a pleasant expression as he glanced at his new classmates.  
"Nope, don't need any help carrying these incredibly heavy bags all the way down the hallway, thanks for asking," growled Dean through his false grin. Finally, after reaching his room at the very end of the corridor, he dropped all his bags to the ground and, with great restraint, knocked with a suitable amount of intensity on the door of his room. After a frighteningly short period of time, the door flung open to reveal a stringy young boy.  
It should be noted at this point that Dean was absolutely NOT gay. Not at all. He'd had plenty of girlfriends and one night stands and knew for sure that boobs were terrific. However, at this particular juncture in time, he was kind of unable to control his facial muscles upon laying eyes on his roommate. The boy had a tangled mass of dark hair that hung slightly in front of his impossibly blue eyes. His collared white shirt was wrinkled, his blue tie was on backwards, and he looked generally disheveled, but his eyes were bright and full of life. A pink tongue slid very briefly over his lips in anticipation of them forming these words: "Hello. I am Castiel Novak. I'm assuming you are Dean Winchester, the other occupant of this room. Would you like some help with your bags?"  
Dean's green eyes stared blankly and helplessly back at Castiel, who then pulled his soft-looking lips into a pleasant smile and lifted one of Dean's bags. Wait, what? Soft-looking? When Castiel turned his back, Dean shook his head violently, as if to rid himself of the idea. He hurriedly collected his bags and thrust them through the threshold. The dorm was sparsely furnished; two twin beds were pressed against opposite walls, made up of large metal frames that cause the mattress to be at approximately eye level to Dean. Desks were conveniently located near each bed, apparently to be used to climb up onto the bed. Dean came to this conclusion as Castiel hoisted himself onto his desk and leapt nimbly onto the bed. The black headed boy flung himself back onto the sheets and smiled at Dean as the latter began throwing his clothes into the drawers of the dresser just below his bed. Surprisingly enough, Dean had somewhat organized his clothes before arriving and was able to empty each bag into a separate drawer and still maintain some order. Dean was aware of Castiel's eyes on his back throughout the procedure. He turned to look at the boy, who was laying on his side and looking him over. "Can I help you?" asked Dean, a slight streak of acidity lacing his voice.  
"I think it's customary that, upon meeting one who is going to share your living quarters, you tell them a bit about yourself."  
"You know my name. That's enough," grunted Dean.  
"Here, I'll go first. I'm Castiel. I'm from Topeka. I like rain and cheeseburgers. Now you try."  
"Dean. From Lawrence. I like being alone and peace and quiet. Happy?" he snarled, sick of this kid already.  
"You are bisexual, aren't you?"  
Green eyes, wide with horror, stared back at Castiel upon registering the words. "It's nice to meet you too, Cas. What the fuck, man?" Castiel looked down, a faint pink blush spilling over his cheeks.  
"I am sorry. My dear friend Sherlock has been teaching me his process of deduction and I am afraid that, coupled with the fact that my 'people skills' are 'rusty'," Castiel made air quotes with his fingers, "I have become prone to outbursts. I apologize, Dean Winchester."   
Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. "Dean is sufficient. And it's alright, but I wouldn't make those kind of observations about other people. Not everyone would react as kindly as I did, especially around here." Castiel nodded, and batted his eyelashes slowly.  
"Do you forgive me, Dean?" he asked shyly. Though his words and expression were the picture of innocence, Dean couldn't help but read a very sexual connotation in the boy's sentence. He stammered for a moment before replying, "Sure thing, Cas." The dark-haired boy smiled coyly.  
"Dilated pupils, slightly impaired speech, and rigid body language. My suspicions are confirmed." The slight curl of Cas' lips leaked into his smile, making him sound sly and cunning.  
Dean glared up at the boy. "I am not gay, Castiel," he growled darkly, throwing his now-empty duffel bags under his bed.  
"I never made that accusation," said Cas, stretching. "I observed that you were attracted to males, given the reaction you had to me when I opened the door. Your reaction to my display of submissiveness confirmed my previous deduction. I have no reason to doubt that you have a significant history with women, given your demeanor and appearance, but it cannot be denied that men have an effect on you as well. Thus, I ha-" Dean slammed the door behind him, storming off down the corridor. He had nowhere to go, but he couldn't stay there with that tactless boy. Mostly because he was completely and utterly correct.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the "explicit" warning will be relevant here soon. And that cherry juice will definitely come into play. ;)

Dean laid stretched out on a concrete bench in the courtyard, twisting a cigarette in his fingers and debating with himself whether or not to smoke it. Finally he stuck it between his lips and pulled a book of matches from his pocket. He pulled out a match and, after striking it against the ground, lit the cigarette. He took a long drag, and blew the smoke into the face of a girl who gave him a disapproving grimace. He chuckled when she coughed. His little joke could only momentarily take his mind off of Cas' deduction. While it was true that he had learned his deduction technique from Sherlock Holmes, undoubtedly the most brilliant student at the school and a double-major in chemistry and forensics, he was frightened at how quickly his roommate had picked up on the feelings that even Dean had doubted really existed. He worried even more about the fact that a complete stranger had determined that he was gay just by looking at him. How was he supposed to build a new reputation when a boy he's just met could unravel him that quickly? He puffed at his cigarette, trying hard not to think about his impossibly awkward, yet undeniably charming new roommate.  
How did the kid get this far in life with those kind of social skills? Dean couldn't help but wonder. The teasing in high school must have been intolerable, and yet here the kid sat. And he'd managed to make friends with Sherlock, whose only companion was his boyfriend, John Watson. Perhaps they enjoy each others' awkwardness, thought Dean. He flicked his cigarette ash onto the ground and sighed. He took one last drag before swinging his legs over the bench and stomping the butt into the ground. As he sat upright, a thought occurred to him: Castiel's only friend was a reclusive and arrogant detective, and Dean had just stormed off and left him alone. He sighed deeply. He knew he had to go back and make peace, and hoped he'd be as quick to forgive as he was to judge.

***

Dean rapped softly on the door of room 221, saying, "It's me, Cas. You decent?"  
"I am adequately clothed, yes," replied Cas' growly voice. Dean rolled his eyes before slipping his key in the lock and entering. Cas was sprawled on his bed in only a pair of pajama pants. Dean attempted and failed to avoid staring at his chest, which, while not overly muscular, was pale and well defined. Red liquid covered his thumb and two fingers, the source of which appeared to be a jar of maraschino cherries that rested on his stomach. When his eyes locked with Dean's, Cas bared his teeth to reveal a mouthful of pearly whites stained with cherry juice. Several half-chewed cherries were mashed between his teeth and hung out of his grin as he smiled.  
"Gross, dude," said Dean with a chuckle. With a laugh and a slurp, Cas sucked the cherries into his mouth. He screwed the lid on the jar and set it on the desk. Dean took a deep breath. "Look, man, I just wanted to apologize for freaking out. It's just that no one's ever, um." Dean's voice faltered as Castiel began to slowly lick cherry juice from his fingertips. He shook his head and continued. "What I mean to say is, I got a little defensive about the gay comments, and I shouldn't have. You were just practicing your deductions. I apologize. Truce?" Castiel slowly laved his pink tongue over his thumb, licking away the last of the sweet juice.  
"Truce," he said, through lips stained red. He swung down from his bed in once less-than-graceful motion, and extended his hand to Dean, who shook it. Castiel smiled, blue eyes bright. "So," said the dark haired boy, perching on the desk, "shall we resume our introductions?" Dean smiled.  
"I'd like that very much. You start."  
Cas tapped his chin. "Well, I like cherries, as you can see. I like film scores and reading and playing video games aaaand I can already tell you're bored. I'm not a terribly interesting guy."  
"Sure you are, Cas," said Dean, smiling. "I just have one question for you." He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a box. "Do you like rock music?"   
Cas shook his head. "I haven't listened to much." Dean widened his eyes in mock surprise. He pulled out a single cassette tape from the box. "Well then, my little friend, I have much to teach you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good stuff is finally upon us. Enjoy!

The two stayed up unreasonably late listening to all manner of rock music, from Hendrix to Metallica. Oddly enough, Carry On Wayward Son seemed to appeal most to Castiel. Eventually, however, it grew late and Castiel had fallen asleep on the desk. Dean had settled into his bed under his deep green comforter, trying to find a comfortable spot on the rock-hard mattress where there seemed to be none. In this state of half-consciousness, he reveled in the fact that he and Cas had found they had so much in common. They were both fascinated by mythology, and swapped favorite tales after they deemed it too late to be playing loud music. Dean smiled as he took a glance at Cas, hunched over his desk and sound asleep. Dean had slipped a pillow under the boy just before he climbed into bed so he wouldn't wake in the morning with a busted-up neck. Tomorrow was the first day of classes, and he'd hate for the already-awkward kid to have to deal with that as well. Dean wanted to be well-rested for his classes, but with the anticipation of meeting new people and starting fresh here, he couldn't make himself fall asleep. Dean closed his eyes in an attempt to make himself sleepy, but to no avail. When he opened them defeatedly a few minutes later, Castiel stood with his face only inches from Dean's. Dean bolted backwards with a shout.  
"Christ almighty, Cas, you can't j-" His words were taken from his lips by Castiel's, which were even softer than they looked. Very faint stubble scratched at Dean's chin. Dean's green eyes stared at Castiel, a bright blush creeping slowly up his neck. It took a second to pull himself from Cas, who had since put his thumb and index finger gently on Dean's jaw and neck, respectively. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Dean whispered loudly. Castiel's features took on a look of confusion and hurt, his eyes narrowing and his nose wrinkling. "I'd heard it was customary to engage in experimental homosexual acts in college," he said, in a low husky whisper that Dean tried very hard not to find incredibly hot.  
"It's expected for GIRLS to do that, not guys," said Dean exasperatedly. Cas tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "Why is that?"  
"I don't know, Castiel."  
"So why is this so bad?"  
"Because it's 2:49 in the morning."  
"Not because you're not gay."  
Dean blushed a deep crimson. Cas smiled slightly.  
"Listen... Just... Don't say anything about this, okay? I'm trying to build a new reputation here."  
"Say anything about wh-" But Castiel's words were gone, replaced by Dean's tongue in his mouth, sweeping heavily over Cas' pink tongue. Dean swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood before Cas, who pushed him roughly against the metal frame. A throaty sound escaped Dean's lips, not sounding nearly as masculine as his ego needed it to. Cas' smallish hands twisted into Dean's hair and his fingers traced circles on his cheeks and grazed gently over his neck, and Dean couldn't help but think that for a kid who had no social skills whatsoever, Castiel was very, very good at this. They paused for a moment to look at each other. Cas' eyes, previously the color of a tidal pool on a cloudless day, had taken on a darkness in this moment that froze Dean in his tracks. The paralyzed Winchester barely felt it when Cas spun him around roughly so that his whole body was pressed roughly against Dean's back. He heard rough, ragged breaths in his ear that made his knees go weak. "Stay there," said Cas, in that deep, gravelly voice that had sounded so cheery mere hours ago. Cas was suddenly absent, with only his scent lingering, a cloud of aftershave and cherries and a hint of something flowery. Dean didn't dare move from this spot, wondering how a timid little boy could be so aggressive. And hot, he thought to himself, and then suddenly blackness overcame him. Silky fabric that felt suspiciously like Cas' blue necktie had been draped over his eyes and was now being knotted tightly behind his head.  
"Wh-what are you doing?" Dean asked hesitantly.  
"Do you have a particular affinity for that t shirt?" asked Castiel, having ignored Dean's question entirely. "No, wh-" Dean could feel the cotton being ripped away from his back, coupled with a soft moaning in his ear from Cas. He felt his pajama pants slide away as well, followed by his boxers. Then he felt nothing at all. He rested his forearms on his bed, assuming that Cas was looking him over. Just as he was starting to panic that Cas had left to go get his friends and reveal that this was all a horrible prank, Castiel's warm, rough hands appeared at his waist. They ran slowly over his skin, applying just a fair amount of pressure. They ran over his shoulders, back, neck, arms, and slowly down to his legs. One arm looped around his torso as if to hold him up, which was explained when Cas took Dean's cock in his hand and Dean's body fell limp. With his sight gone, his sense of feeling was heightened significantly, and the feeling of Cas' rough palm on his swollen cock was enough to make him gasp and collapse. His reaction made Cas laugh heartily. "Careful there, Dean," he whispered huskily, "don't want you to be damaged already when I fuck you." Dean shuddered and moaned, leaning back against Cas. Somewhere along the line, he had stripped down himself, and his chest pressed against Dean's back. He was much more stocky than he had appeared to be. Dean felt Cas' fingers tighten around his cock and pull upwards. Dean grasped desperately at his sheets, moaning much louder than he intended. Cas' hand continued to pump for roughly a dozen more strokes, each one unraveling Dean more than the last. Suddenly Cas' heat was absent from his back and cock, but was replaced as soon as it had gone on his stomach. A sudden wet heat that could have only been Cas' mouth overcame his cock. Dean gasped, gritting his teeth as Cas pumped his hot, wet mouth over Dean's cock. He felt brief vibrations against the sensitive skin that must have been Cas' laughter. Dean reached one hand down to thread his fingers through the boy's tangled locks, attempting to pull him onto his cock. Cas batted the hand away and licked slowly, agonizingly, over his throbbing member, eliciting slow groans from Dean's lips. He felt fingers slowly massage his balls, and he clenched his hands tightly to attempt not to lose it completely.  
"Cas... I'm gonna... I can't..." Dean moaned breathlessly, panting and feeling a slow electric surge creep up his legs. Of course, however, Cas was gone, his body in its original position behind Dean. Dean heard a soft slurping sound from behind him, and before he could ask, he felt a wet tendril sliding between his ass. He had expected this to be foreign and unpleasant, but as he felt Cas' finger slide over his hole, Dean was not afraid. Instead he settled in and prepared himself for the pressure of the boy's finger in his ass. It was strange, but quite pleasant, in actual fact. Cas slipped his finger gently back out, then slipped only his fingertip back in. This repeated slowly for a minute or so, drawing groans from Dean. Without warning, Cas slipped his whole finger in, making Dean jump. A hand was placed on his shoulder, a gentle "shhh" whispered in his ear as he whimpered softly. The tip of a second finger crept slowly into Dean, who then sighed, "for god's sake, Cas...just..." He could feel Cas smile against his shoulder.  
"All you have to do is ask," teased Cas softly.  
"Fuck me," Dean declared through gritted teeth. A low chuckle emerged Cas' lips, and he was gone. Dean heard a bottle opening and closing again, and then felt a surprisingly large object pressed against him.  
"As you wish," snarled Cas. He shoved Dean to his desk and bent him over it. Dean felt Cas' cock slip into him, and moaned out a desperate cry of "CAS!" His cock left him, only to return seconds later with a ferocity. Dean cried out again, and this process repeated several times, Cas leaving him completely and returning harder than before. Finally Dean moaned, "if you pull out again I may kill you, Mr. Novak." Cas chuckled, and finally, pulling the blindfold off of Dean as he did, fucked him, truly and completely, slamming him against the desk and pulling his hair and occasionally pulling him up by the chest to bite down on his neck. Finally, after a plentitude of gasping and groaning, Cas declared, "I think I'm going to..." And he did, spilling over into Dean and gasping desperately. A slow, gravelly moan of "Deeeaaaan," escaped Cas' lips, the word thick with lust. The sound of the boy's finish sent Dean over the edge. The two stayed glued to each other for a moment, stuck together by sweat and come, until Cas pried himself away. Without a word, only a kiss on Dean's cheek, Cas marched determinedly out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. Dean collapsed on the desk, knowing his days of cute little blondes and their perky breasts were over, taken away by tangle-haired, baby-blue-eyed, unreasonably sexy Castiel. The boy who ravished him like a devil and left the room like an angel. "Angel.." Dean said, as if to test out the word. It seemed oddly appropriate for a boy like Cas.


End file.
